


parks of lust

by florallflwrss



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1820s, Forbidden Love, M/M, Regency Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28784106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florallflwrss/pseuds/florallflwrss
Summary: "Are you not drinking, Styles?""Sorry? I did not know we had the intimacy for you to address me by only my last name."
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. the season

**Author's Note:**

> Well... This is "parks of lust"  
> This work is based on the Netflix show "Bridgerton", the story is mine, but the societal base was heavily inspired by the series. I do recommend you to watch it if you haven't, it's amazing, it is originally a series of book which I also recommend you to read. This narrative is set in the 1820s.  
> It's a regency romance, and as is well-known, homosexuality was not accepted at the time, so it will be an angsty story, it might take a few chapters for Harry's relationship with Louis to develop, but I have it all planned out.  
> I hope you like it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> profitable agreement

The dusk summer sun filled the light periwinkle coloured room with the delight of a June evening, as the most eligible bachelor of the season sat, comfortably with the posture of a king, as thin porcelain reached his lips, letting the rich flavour of earl grey tea take over his mouth. 

"Darling, you should make hast if you wish to make an appearance at the ball while people are still present." An older woman, head held high, with posture so perfect, as if carrying the English crown on her head.

"Mama, there is no ball without the young Duke, newly arrived in town." The young man now looked up from his book, that set, appearing almost weightless over his hand, and met his green eyes with his mother deep ones, moulded so nicely by wrinkles, that formed themselves on the end of her eyes.

"Cocksureness is not exactly an appealing trait, Harry." The voice of the woman once again ran through the room, so swiftly.

"Ah, mother, but anyone who is confidence can conquer the heaviest of hearts, especially one with the title such great as Duke hanging over their head." The young gentleman got up, swiftly closing the book, with a simple motion of his fingers, and positioning the teacup, perfectly over the centre of the table cloth.

"Now, now, dear." The woman placed a caring hand over the Duke's cheek. "I did not raise you to be arrogant." 

"I am nothing but that, mama." He smiled lightly. "I shall be on my way now. Should I tell the guests that the Styles Dowager is on yet another one of her myriad adventures over the world?"

"Tell them I am visiting Prussia, perhaps." She smiled lightly and removed her warm touch from his face. "Have a great night, darling, as it is the first ball of the season, I expect you to choose a lovely lady to start courting."

"Do not worry about that, mother. The title Duke of Whitelon is already going to do a great deal for me." He smiled and his mother only let out an airy chuckle before sitting down onto the sofa displayed to her right.

"Do not forget to be kind, dear." She reminded him as he stepped out of the room.

"Never." He whispered lightly, the soft smile present in his voice. 

***

The ballroom was glowing. The sun outside had already set, but the ambient had never seemed more bright. Its liveliness' main fuel, being the gossip that went around from the most respectful women of London. 

Every single mother pushing their daughter to the ledge of a precipice, hoping there would be a suitable gentleman that would make them fall into the abyss of marriage. The young women were all hanging by a fairly decorated thread, made up of expensive dresses and tiaras that would supposedly make them more acceptable to society. The debutants seemed delighted by the presence of the others, anyone from the outside world would see an extremely polite environment. But trained eyes could see what everyone was hiding. A true animalistic fight for survival. Everyone in search of the same destiny. Marriage.

"Ah, Your Grace, how pleased you have finally arrived." The voice came from a young man, chest filled with pride and the arrogance of youth. His hair was in its natural tame mess, burnt caramel colour, and the drizzle of his confidence was clearly apparent in his hazel eyes.

"Please, Payne, we are way past these formalities." The young Duke smiled as they shook hands with wide grins. 

"Harry, how much I have missed your company, old friend." The young man said as they walked down the stairs to the large ballroom. "Is it true you are to finally look for a wife?"

"Well, I am here in matchmaking season, do with that as you will." He smirked and as soon as his figure was noticed my the mothers, there were already a few young ladies walking towards his direction.

The young Duke was never famous for being a romantic amongst the other man in the high English society. As much as the artistry of stealing everyone's attention was one that His Grace had mastered with no effort, he was never seen with his focus on anyone in particular at any times. His gaze was lingering, even though it never left the one he was conversing with. He flirted with different women and many stories of flesh acts were divulgated, none were actually proven by a witness, only the stern uncertainty of gossip held the tales alive. 

"Hm, well, I don't expect it will take you too long to accomplish what you are here for." The other man smiled. "I will leave you to your business." Soon, Liam Payne was out of sight, already lost within the crowd.

"Hello, Your Grace, I am Elizabeth Farley." A woman reaching her fifties bowed her head slightly. Her hair resembled a tower of scones, and as she leaned forward, slightly, it looked like the intricate design of her curls was going to fall over, and her short, rotund figure with it. Her snouty face made her appear even more arrogant than her tone of voice.

"Ah, yes, my mother has mentioned you in a few of our conversations about some estates in the south that need our aid in financial stability. Your husband owns one, am I correct?" Harry asked, showing the woman a polite smile, trying to see if she would lose the arrogant attitude.

"A-ah, yes, he does." The woman struggled with her posture for a moment, before putting a smile on her face. "How is the Dowager Duchess, anyway?" 

"Ah, in one of her many adventures. Prussia this time! She tells me the fields are delightful." The Duke grinned widely.

"Well, I hope she is having a gleeful time." The smug woman said and stepped to the side, signalling two young women forward, most likely first time debutants. "These are my two daughters, Cassandra and Sophia Farley." There was a small pause, where the two women, same snouty and arrogant faces, one of them a bit taller and sharper eyes. The same colour of dirty blonde hair and grey-ish blue eyes. 

"Such a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace." The shorter one, Sophia, said with a crooked smile.

The Duke nodded with a grin and soon spotted a tall woman, a few years older than him from across the room. "I am so sorry for having to cut this conversation short, Ladies. I have to excuse myself" He said with a pleasant smile and walked past the Farleys. 

"Lady Hackney." He greeted her politely, with an enormous grin on his face.

"Harry, dear!" The woman smiled widely towards him and gave him a polite kiss on the cheek. "Oh, how long it has been since I have seen you!" Her voice was happy, and her hazel eyes sparkled with care, that matched her long curled hair tied in an intricate bun, leaving her dashing earings on show.

"Yes, well, I suppose I am back for good this time." He said with confidence and the same grin he always wore.

"Looking for matrimony?" She nudged him a bit and he simply nodded with a chuckle. "I see you were talking to the Farleys. Elizabeth is a bitch, and her daughters did not fall too far from the tree." She said with a scoff, and Harry laughed and gasped a bit.

"I don't suppose you remember we are in a polite environment." He remarked and she merely rolled her eyes.

"I am a single woman, past her forties, I can say whatever I want, I am no longer respectable." She said and Harry took her hand.

"Well, I respect you more than any married woman in this room." The Duke said calmly.

"You are such a darling boy." She smiled and squeezed his hand. "Where can I find your mother? Is she not here again?"

"You know how mother is, she despises parties, especially when they are set in such closed environments." He said and Lady Hackney agreed.

"Where do the guests think she is, this time? Turkey?"

"Prussia." He said and they both laughed.

Suddenly, the Lady's eyes left the Duke's green ones and landed on a delicate young woman chatting along with a few other older women. 

"Miss Astley!" Hackley called and the girl's eyes were directed towards the pair, which made Harry look and Lady Hackley with furrowed brows.

"Georgia Astley, beautiful young woman, her first season. The queen takes pride in say she is incomparable, her family recently moved from the country." She whispered into his ear before the woman reached them, her figure wrapped in a beautiful blue dress.

"Hello, Lady Hackley, such a pleasure to see you." The young woman smiled, softly and her eyes radiated genuineness. Her eyes were blue but the colour was mostly overshadowed by the grey in her irises.

"This is the Duke of Whitelton. Harry Edward Styles." Lady Hackley averted her gaze to Harry, and so did Georgia.

"I am delighted to meet you, Your Grace." She bowed her head a bit, still the soft smile on her face, and Harry's grin widened.

"It is my utmost pleasure." He said, looking into her eyes. Her cheeks were slightly flushed with a light shade of pink. Lady Hackley smiled at the interaction, excusing herself from the conversation and leaving the pair alone. "How would you like to have a dance with me, Miss Astley?" He asked, and saw the young woman's cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink.

"I would love to." She said and took Harry's hand, who led her to the dance floor.

"How are you acquainted to Lady Hackley?" The Duke asked as their feet moved swiftly over the shiny marble floor. 

"The Payne family invited my family to tea once we arrived in the city and she was there," Georgia said with a small smile as she performed her moves almost perfectly.

"Oh, so you must know Liam Payne! He is their eldest son." Harry said and watched Georgia nod. Her features were soft, but her gaze sharp.

"Yes, I met him." She smiled. "How are you acquainted with Lady Hackley?" She asked the question back.

Georgia quickly spun around, holding Harry's hand.

"Well, my mother knew her and Liam's mother, Alice, since they were children grew up together. She raised Liam and me, and helped my mother when my father passed." Harry explained, and Georgia simply nodded in understanding.

"Sorry about your father."

"Oh, it has been a few years, it's quite alright." The Duke smiled reassuringly. 

The minutes flew by, just like their feet, moving in the melodic pace of the music. The chatter carried on around them, he could feel the eyes of all the other mamas, staring intensely and jealously at the debutant who had been able to snatch the most eligible bachelor of the season on the first day. Harry felt no need to know much more about the girl, marriage, to him, as he had seen it his whole life, was an economical agreement, nothing more. A nice enough girl, witch a respectable enough family. A few days of courting would be enough for the final proposal. 

Not like he had ever had the intention of marrying until recently once his mind took a spin, and thoughts took shape of dutch braids.

Romance hadn't been a particularly common thing in the Styles household. Harry's parents loved him, but the constant sharp looks between them showed Harry enough proof that marriage did not need to be full of love. 

"I do believe I should be on my way now, Your Grace," Georgia informed him, and the Duke let go of her frame, walking out of the dance floor. "It was a pleasure to dance with you, I sure do hope to see you soon."

"I should thank you. It was quite a pleasant evening." He kissed the back of her hand, as she, with a soft grin, walked away.

**

"Harry, darling, how was the ball?" 

"It was good." He answered his mother's question simply enough and sat in front of her. 

"Come on, I want to know more." His mother nudged him with one of her feet. "Did you meet a nice girl?"

"You would know if you had gone." He grumbled, and saw his mother's teasing expression fall from her face and break into a million shards as it hit the floor.

"Harry... You know I don't enjoy the widow talk." She said. 

He knew, his mother made sure to remind him that once your husband dies, the regular conversation does too, you are put into a group with insufferable widows, and other people don't engage far after pleasantries, because, apparently, the 'gloom of grief' is contagious. Even though, his mother was never presented with 'gloom of grief', her life did not change once the former Duke passed, his memory being kept only in Harry's mind, as his mother did not as much as shed a tear. Perhaps it made sense, she didn't engage in much with her husband while he was alive, why start caring after he passed? He did not understand why everyone was talking about that as if it were disgusting, it was all he knew, marriage as a mere profitable agreement, Harry did not understand, maybe he never will.

"Hackley was there."

"Oh, was she?" His mother's eyes sparkled with happiness. "How was she? She must come over for tea someday, I miss her very dearly."

"She was fine. Introduced me to Georgia Astley," His mother brightened up at the name.

"She is very well talked about! Will you be courting her?" 

"I plan to." He nodded.

"I don't hear much happiness on your voice, I thought you wanted to get married." His mother's voice sounded sad. He wanted to admit the truth, but the certainty within him that his mama would not like the subject grew stronger.

"I do! Just a bit tired, is all." He smiled and his mother caressed his cheek as she always did since he was a child. 

"Go to bed then, a girl like her is probably going to be full of callers."

"Ah, but I am the only Duke." He grinned and she scoffed. "Goodnight, mama" He kissed her cheek and scurried off to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the first chapter of "Parks of lust"!
> 
> As it is stated in the details of the story, this is based on Bridgerton, if you haven't watched it, I recommend you to, it is on Netflix. 
> 
> It was a basic introduction of what the story will be set like, Louis is still not here, but be patient, he will arrive soon! It does seem like there isn't much space for their love story, but a lot is to come, so just wait :) 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it if anyone is reading this.


	2. courting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> London is boring

"The next caller, The Duke of Whitelton, Harry Edward Styles." A husky voice announced, and Harry walked into the tall room.

The sun decorated the chamber even more beautifully, making the golden painted designs appear even more brilliant than they originally were. On a small marble table sat a large silver plate filled with biscuits and mini pound cakes, elaborately decorated with different frostings that looked like paints that could be exhibited in museums. If one with a foolish perception of the world was asked what heaven looked like, the answer would be this exact room.

"Good afternoon, Your Grace." A woman, who was to be identified as her Ladyship in the Astley residence announced, as she bowed her head in a form of reverence. Her eyes were leaden, they resembled the blue in Georgia's irises, but the colour couldn't be noticed between the sorrow taking over them. "It is utterly gleeful that we see you here."

"Ah, your Ladyship, I could not seem to forget Lady Astley's eyes since I first looked at them," Harry said, straightening his posture. Although he was not particularly familiar with romance, his flirtation skills never lacked. "I have brought some flowers, Tulips." He said, in a charming smooth voice, as if the simple snap of his fingers opened the doors to two men bringing decorated porcelain vases, full of beautiful, and quite pricy, Tulips.

"Wow! They are stunning, Your Grace! Thank you deeply." Georgia smiled widely, and genuinely as she admired the beautiful flowers being set on the tables.

"I have also brought a more personal gift." The young Duke took a long, dark, velvet box, and opened it, revealing a beautiful blue diamond bracelet, natural, exquisitely rare, and famously expensive. "They remind me of your eyes." He whispered so that only Georgia, who let out an appreciative grin. His hands took her wrist, ever so gently and wrapped the intricate piece of jewellery around her arm. The way he could lie so stunningly was truly impressive, but the way everyone surrounding him believed every word was even more.

"You flatter me, Your Grace." She said in a stunned whisper and he grinned in her direction and simply nodded. 

"You could tell how much you appreciate it on a promenade someday." He suggested and a grin appeared on Georgia's face.

"That would be lovely, Your Grace." She answered and Harry smiled, leaving a small kiss on the back of her hand.

"I will write to you." He said swiftly, turning to her Ladyship. "Thank you for having me, Mrs Astley." And soon enough, he was out the door.

***

"I hear you are courting Georgia Astley," Liam said as he took a small sip of bourbon just poured by the barman behind the black counter of a pub.

The small bar was in a small alley, no one in the high London society talked about it, but every man had been to it at least once, Harry and Liam just happened to be regulars. It wasn't a distinct pub, the same yellow lighting, black counters, and the pungent smell of whisky mixed with the expensive smoke of cigarettes.

"Precisely. I do not reckon I will need much time before proposing." He affirmed and Liam let out a sigh, letting Harry know, immediately he disapproved deeply of the idea.

"What happened, Harry? You never wanted to marry before. Laughed whenever anyone mentioned the topic. And shivered at the thought of being 'tied down' for the rest of your life." Harry furrowed his brows at the remark, only crossing his arms over his chest as if affirming to everyone, but above all, himself, that he had everything thought of and under his control.

"I have matured, Liam. I'm no longer a boy. I am a man and now I know my priorities." He said straightening up as if the answer was so obvious no one needn't ask.

"I don't believe you. You can't possibly have matured such little time."

"You would be surprised as to what I can do with little time-" The Duke's snarky comment was interrupted by a voice from a distance, that cut sharply through the tension Harry had started to slowly build between them.

"Payne!" It was a voice higher that sounded unfamiliar, a heavy accent coated it, certainly a bit higher than the Duke's, but he could tell that this man smoked cigarettes, by the hoarseness Harry's voice lacked.

"Tomlinson?" Liam squinted his eyes as the figure of a man approached them. He was a bit shorter than both of them and wore a dark grey suit, that made his light blue eyes extremely apparent, even under a bit of his hazel hair that fell over his face. Such a way to present yourself. The Duke almost scoffed at the state the man was in, shirt wrinkled and his character, clearly dishevelled. "Harry, this is Louis Tomlinson, Earl of Faxley, he moved to town when you were away."

"Ah, The Duke of Whitelton." The man, now identified as Louis gave a small smile and lowered his head for a second, as a greeting, Harry did not do the same, he had not secured a good impression of the man, what kind of self-respecting man, who had enough money to be buying cigarettes, would walk around the streets of London in such a way.

"I figure you know me then." Harry inquired and Louis Tomlinson laughed.

"Well, it is a bit hard not hearing about the Duke's name in a season such as this one." Harry nodded, not impressed at the least by the man's manner of speaking that seemed slouchy and uncivilized for an Earl. "Also, Payne, would not stop talking about your childhood anecdotes."

"Ah, yes, we did have quite a bit of fun as children," Harry said dryly, no humour or glee present in his voice, reassuring himself he was able to keep his posture around a man so, clearly careless. For some reason, The Duke felt a sea of unease at the side of the Earl, he had a cocky attitude and his confidence was suffocating.

"Anywho, what are you doing here? I thought you wouldn't be drinking this month." Liam asked. setting his drink on the table and pointing to the chair in front of them, for Louis to sit.

"I expected you to know me better than to think I would go through with that." The commentary made the two chuckle, The Duke still trying to figure out the mystery of the Earl of Faxley, whose blue eyes did not leave his. Harry was never fond of losing control, and the way he was not able to figure Tomlinson out was tangling his thoughts even more. "Are you not drinking, Styles?"

"Sorry? I did not know we had the intimacy for you to address me by only my last name." The Duke raised an eyebrow, his response was almost automatic, as he heard his surname escape the Earl's lips in their first acquaintance, but the sharp response was rewarded by a sharp elbow between his ribs, making Harry wince. Liam Payne.

"Loosen up, Harry. Getting all the attention from the mamas has truly made you a snob. He's a good friend of mine." Liam said, which made Harry huff and Louis chuckled, leaving Harry even more angered. Tomlinson was the snob in the table. The Duke took first impressions very seriously, and it felt as if someone was injecting a milligram of anger into his body at each word that left Louis Tomlinson's mouth.

"I thought you said he was fun Liam, I see nothing of the sort in him," Louis called the barman and signalled to Liam's cup, to which the man behind the counter simply nodded. Harry's eyes were fully on Louis now, all of his anger focused to his gaze, so he wouldn't get up and punch the man, who was now fully disrespecting The Duke, to Harry's standards, who was a man always polite with anyone he did not know closely, and he was intending on keeping his posture. 

Louis smirked in his direction as if he could see The Duke trying to maintain his nerves calm as if The Earl had the utmost pleasure watching Harry stumble with his thoughts.

"I do drink, just not for no reason, getting drunk in the middle of the day is completely unnecessary." The Duke answered sharply, making Louis scoff.

"Truth is, he used to drink so much he had to go away for a couple of months." Liam joked and Harry rolled his eyes, now wanting to punch Liam as well.

Harry was not one to take disrespect, even if by a joke, calmly. If it was one thing he could not stand was people disrespecting his image, and Louis Tomlinson had managed to get him angry enough to want to break the table into two, in merely one, thirty-minute encounter.

"I've told you a few times, I just matured, I don't need to drink to feel good."

"Oh, please, everyone needs a drink every once in a while," Louis said. "Even Dukes." He said the last part witch a voice drenched in mockery and that was truly the last straw for Harry.

"I will not continue to discuss this, I have to promenade if you will excuse me." The young, angered, Duke got up.

"Wow, so extremely wanted, isn't he?" Louis mocked once again, and Liam only chuckled. Harry fought with himself to not punch the man then and there.

"I do apologize you can't relate." And with his sharp answer, the Duke left the pub before he did kill the man.

***

The Duke of Whitleton was currently walking, ever so calmly, alongside Lady Georgia Astley, over a small white bridge, that decorated the park so perfectly it almost looked like the scene was out of a painting. His previous rage, now trapped at the back of his head, while he focused his worries on that afternoon.

The park was illuminated with the bright sunlight that made the river sparkle, as it ran down its very own path into whichever direction it wished to go to. Everyone seemed to be floating like they were weightless, wrapped in white dresses, so soft, the people appeared to be clouds, against the incomparably blue sky as their background. 

"Your Grace, if you do not mind me asking, why did you leave England?" The soft voice of one Georgia Astley inquired as she walked, steps as light as feathers. "These past few months no one knew of your location." She added, the blue in her eyes more apparent now, as the sun hit the pair.

"I need to leave a bit of mystery in the air, do I not? No one wants to read a book of which they already know the whole story." Harry says, still walking beside the debutant, his posture straight and eyes on the trees.

"I do not believe a book is a fair analogy to the complexity of a human being. I would also much rather discover about you than read the endless pages of Sir Walter Scott or... Ferrier." The young lady answered, eyebrows furrowed as if she put her whole concentration in deciphering the man next to her.

"Why, but I must think you have a fairly incorrect view of me if you believe me to be more interesting than Scott." The Duke now had his face more rigid. He could safely say, without a second of a doubt, that any book was better than a human. 

"But, Your Grace, you stand here, blood and flesh, while all I can do with Scott is turn pages." She says with a sigh, looking confused, but still quite sure of her opinion.

Foolish. Harry thought as he reviewed the conversation in his mind nonchalantly. 

"That is exactly why being with Scott, or any other author is so much better than being with me, or anyone for that matter. No inconveniences that can't be fixed by the simple act of turning pages." He said, this time, seemingly more present in the conversation, genuinely expressing his thoughts.

"But we have not faced any inconvenience of any sort, that I am aware of, have we not?" She inquired, stumbling with her thoughts.

"No..." The Duke let out a small laugh. "Not yet, we have not." 

The innocent ignorance in young women was astonishing to meet, how was someone that was talking so seriously about marriage not notice any of the most obvious inconveniences around her, like the fact that The Duke hadn't looked her in the eye once during their whole conversation.

***

The promenade did not take much more of his afternoon as Lady Astley's mother had called on her for afternoon tea, Harry not necessarily saddened by the calling, as the conversation was getting very naif and uninteresting, shallow, each word emptier than the other.

And as the Duke was leaving the park he ran his hand through his hair, suddenly exhausted after only moments of wasted conversation, that usually would come naturally over him. He had arrived only two weeks before, but London had already grown boring once again. The streets no more interesting, and neither were the people. Everyone had the same wedding hungry expression that made Harry sick to his stomach. He wanted adventures, he wanted merriment, he wanted commotion, he wanted anything but ballrooms and promenades that had the mere intention of getting two young people to make a life long agreement.

His steps led him through the empty, grey streets of that most common London dusk. A few moments later of the dull walking pace he sported, The Duke had arrived at his residence, tall, a beautiful manor, cream coloured and vines running from the ground up, enlacing themselves in every corner possible. The front garden wasn't particularly elaborate, nothing like the hills from his family estate in the country, although there was a beautiful marble fountain that charmed the passers, something his mother had always taken pride in. So silly, taking pride in something so simple as a fountain. But after all, everyone took pride in their little things, that made being a useless human being a bit less doleful.

As Harry walked through the beautiful, tall gates, and into the house, the familiar noise of chatter started to show, each step it grew louder, until The Duke found himself amid gossip and freshly baked scones. 

"Mama, what is happening?" He had furrowed brows, in utter confusion as to what all these people were doing in his house.

"Dear, I told you about this yesterday! I am hosting the afternoon tea." She said with a small smile and Harry sighed, running his thoughts as little files to see if maybe he could remember his mother passing on that information, but his gut told him that she never did. However, he could not simply send these people home, so with a hand through his hair, he nodded.

"Of course, I'm so sorry I forgot." He smiled apologetically. Harry then left his mother's side to walk around and politely greet people, he did not want to come off as rude. After meeting a few Earls and barons, Harry had already tired out his words, something quite rare for someone as talkative as Harry, but the words he had said today had been so empty that they used up all his energy. He takes in a deep breath and walks toward the violinist playing, the way each note echoed so perfectly in the room, it seemed like peace could be restored by a simple piece of sheet music.

"Do you play?" A sudden voice, Irish accent presenting itself, and The Duke looked to his right, where the question had come from. There stood a brunette man, soft features but sharp eyes full of a spark Harry had immediately identified as 'something fun'. 

"Oh, no, I just enjoy the sound of it," Harry answered, he did not know the man, but for some reason was not bothered by the informality that he had approached him with, too lost examining the Irishman's devilish grin. He was certainly peculiar.

"I'm Niall James Horan, Marquess of Barings." He introduced himself, stretching out a hand, which Harry shook politely. He had heard a few things about The Marquess of Baring, he was extravagant, never afraid to spend his money on whatever would make his wild parties better. Perhaps Niall Horan would be the man to make London less boring.

"Ah, I have heard a few things about you, Marquess." Harry did not feel the need to introduce himself, the Marquess was in his house, after all. Of course he knew who he was.

"All bad, I hope." The Marquess' grin widened and the Duke smirked. He was not normally this 'friendly' in the first acquaintance, but he was so utterly drowning in boredom, that he made exceptions. 

"That is up to interpretation." The Duke said, eyes on the violin.

"Such beautiful paintings you have." The Marquess pointed to the frames hung in the walls, they were truly stunning, incredible how much a brush and pigment could do.

"They are." Harry nodded, now looking in the same direction as Niall, who was now approaching the paintings more.

"Do you paint?" He asks, question familiar in his ear, and Harry considered the question for a second. The Duke sketched plants, nothing more, not exactly an artiste.

"I draw, purely for fun," Harry answered, that was the truth. Drawing calmed him down, it was a simple hobby he enjoyed when he felt exhausted because it didn't take him too much energy to reach his goal as the pencil drew lines on the paper, it was effortless.

"Well, I hold drawing lessons, per se, in my house at nights, you would be welcome to join." Niall offered, grin a bit more rested as he spoke.

"Who is the teacher?" Harry inquired, hand on his chin, considering attending, he did not have anything more interesting to do, and he could not bear attend another ball.

"It is more of a drawing circle, we just practice and converse, no teacher." The Marquess explained and The Duke nodded. "You can make up your mind, my house is on the main square, 22, should be easy to find." And so, Niall was gone. Harry considered it. He was a Duke, he had responsibilities, and being caught in a problematic Marquess' house would not necessarily do any good for his image, even if only for a drawing session. That is exactly why he came to the conclusion he would, by all means, show at Niall Horan's party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Louis appeared! Yay! 
> 
> I hope the part of their encounter wasn't too confusing, Harry was very angry for seemingly very little provocation, but it's a part of Harry's character, as he has a few very strict boundaries he hates people crossing, one of them being his image, his title, and he felt as if Louis was disrespecting it, that's why he was so angry. 
> 
> I took a bit more inspiration from Bridgerton this chapter and for the next chapter, the 'drawing circle' is heavily based on the one in the show.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If there are any questions, ask away. I will probably update either tomorrow or today, I have some free time in my hands.
> 
> <3


	3. at night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just a different point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mildly explicit sexual content ahead

The night is young, and so is the Duke of Whistleton, as he walks down the pavement, breeze hitting his face like there was nothing else in the world that mattered beside the slow sparkling of the stars, and the quiet sound of the London streets when the sun wasn't shining.

It seemed like a different universe. No judging by the hungry eyes of gossiping mothers, streets dark, only able to see what was close to you, what truly mattered, the rest was hidden within the shadows, completely harmless and insignificant.

Harry looked angelic in the midst of the dark, his curls flew with the breeze, eyes open and on the sky, with a green shine that made even the stars were jealous. His steps were calm, no rush as he made his way to the main square, enjoying the night. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen London so peaceful, so innocent, so harmless. 

The streets were dimly lit, by tall lamps that shook at the sight of a small breeze, the manors seemed abandoned, windows completely dark. Only one stood out, number 22, tall, painted a lavender shade so light it was almost imperceptible. That was his destination. The front door was closed, but the brightness of a lamp was visible through the sheer curtains hung from the inside. Chatter noise came from inside the house, almost inaudible, but present, whatsoever, in the undertones of the night.

The Duke knocked and in a mere question of seconds, The Marquess of Barings opened the tall door, same devilish grin on his face, that seemed to match Harry's perfectly. He was not wearing a suit, suspenders at show, and white shirt half unbuttoned.

"Your Grace, I was starting to doubt you would show." Horan opened the door wider, giving space for The Duke to enter.

"So was I," Harry answered, a wide grin on his face as he entered the place, Niall chuckled. The entry hall was neatly decorated, every object, very clearly expensive. 

"Follow me." The Duke did as told, following The Marques towards the end of the entry hall, where a dark wooden door was. The Irishman turned around, grin wider than ever, before opening the door.

Harry thought he was dreaming. It was a dimly lit room, very wide, in the middle of it were positioned three women, leaning on each other, arms tangled together, nude bodies at display, surrounded by a circle of tall canvases, men sketching each curve as if their life depended on it. The sofas on the corners of the room were occupied by people kissing sloppily, clothes almost off, each touch rough and gentle. The place smelt of sex and whisky, lust in every corner.

He knew these people, he had seen them in balls and luncheons, they came from wealthy and respectable families. But at the same time, he didn't know any of them, these were different people, these people were wild and free. London was never boring, he was just seeing the wrong side of it.

"Since outside we can't have our fun, we do it here," Niall explained. "And, don't worry, no one here will snitch." The Marquess winked, and suddenly, he was no longer by Harry's side, who was still in awe, observing each corner of the room, as he took a seat in front of one of the empty canvasses.

The atmosphere radiated sexuality, but it didn't arouse The Duke, not the naked women, not the sloppy passionate kisses, it felt comfortable, in an exhilarating way.

No one treated him like The Duke of Whitleton, no one even seemed to notice he was there, and he wasn't bothered by it like he usually would be. Maybe he was getting cross-contaminated by the burning smell of alcohol, or maybe it was the lack of sleep, but this time, it was fine not to be "Your Grace".

His hands moved across the paper, charcoal painting lines on the white surface, his green eyes darting back and forth between the naked figures and his drawing, almost automatically. It wasn't sexual, it wasn't arousing, it was freeing. 

"Stunning sketch, Styles." The familiar voice appeared from behind Harry and made him clench the piece of charcoal, that stained he knew was staining his hands a powdery shade of black. "Very realistic."

He ignored the voice, shrugging off the tensing on his shoulders, as he continued to trace lines on the paper.

"Although, I think this..." Harry felt a hand on his left. shoulder, and watched, as slim fingers reached the paper and smudged a line on the drawing, creating a delicate shadow. "...should be blended." The man finished the sentence, hot breath hitting the nape of Harry's neck.

His whole body shivered at the whisper, shoulders tensing, hands gripping the charcoal piece even harder, breath shaky, and bottom lip stuck under the grip of his teeth.

The Duke immediately whipped his head, and there stood Louis Tomlinson, hand still on Harry's shoulder. "Don't touch me." His voice came out shakily, which made Louis smirk. He felt angry, he shrugged the man's hand off of his shoulder roughly, slowly trying to compose himself. 

"Now I have to start over," Harry grumbled, getting another piece of paper, and placing the other one on the floor. He was still tense, heartbeat rapidly increasing with anger, what was that feeling? Louis had been right, the drawing did look better with the blended in lines, but he would never admit it, especially in front of him.

"Never thought I would see you here," Louis said, changing the subject. Was he still there? Harry rolled his eyes. "Thought you were more of a sophisticated guy." 

"I am." The young Duke answered, never letting his eyes wander out of his paper.

"Then what is the sophisticated Duke of Whitelton doing at a place like this?" Louis mocked, and Harry felt his blood boil. "Are you here to snitch?" 

"I would never," Harry said, sharply. He took great pride in his loyalty, he would never tell if someone put their trust on him. This was a safe space.

"I figured." Louis chuckled. "I simply think it's quite entertaining to see you angry. And I have found out it is really simple to do so." Harry stopped drawing. That's when he felt Louis' finger creep up his back. "Just have to push a few buttons." He felt a hand squeeze his shoulders.

There it was, that damned feeling. His hand tightened on the charcoal and it snapped right in the middle, into two pieces that fell on the floor. Harry stood up, eyes filled with anger, he turned towards Louis, who stood there, with a smug grin, endlessly enjoying the way The Duke was reacting to his provocation. The only thing Harry wanted to do was punch away that smirk.

He looked around, everyone was still minding their own business, he could be carefree and drawing whatever his hands told him to if it wasn't for this self-righteous man who made Harry's blood boil. The Duke was quick to grab the collar of Louis' shirt and drag him into a small room. Even if people weren't staring, he couldn't risk ruining his reputation.

As soon as the door was locked behind them, Harry didn't waste a single second before punching the man, square on his jaw. His knuckles filled with pain as they hit the man's face. The Duke was almost sure Louis was about to hit him when he lunged in his direction, but he was surprised when lips touched his in a rough manner, sending shocks through his whole body.

Harry was paralysed for what felt like ages, but once he realised, he was kissing Louis' back, hands on his hair, movements rough, scratching nails at the back of his neck, brute kisses all over his skin it was a mess. He wasn't thinking, he was letting his body guide his mind, just like he did when he was drawing, except now, it was all eager, eager for more.

Soon enough his shirt was somewhere thrown in a corner of the room, abandoned along with his shoes and trousers. Even with the lack of clothes, his body never felt hotter, a feeling so intense he could not explain it even in a billion words. Skin on skin, touch after touch, kiss that sent. shocks through his whole body.

They didn't utter a word, as Harry's hands travelled thoughtlessly, removing Louis' tailored trousers, the price of them long forgotten, as they were thrown on the floor. The room was warm, sweat glistening on their faces, as their eager touches led to their pants getting removed faster than a single blink. 

Now, they were both naked, flesh against flesh, lust encapsulating them in a bubble of their own as if nothing else existed at that moment, and the most important problem at that moment was what the next touch would lead to. 

Harry was thrown against the wall, Louis' lips trailing wet kisses down his body, everything at that moment was out of the window, because fucking god that felt amazing. The Duke's whole frame jolted, and he let out an airy gasp as a pang of pressure hit the bottom part. of his body.

"You alright, Styles?" Louis asked, hands gripping Harry's waist tightly, body still.

"Shut up." The Duke said, bottom lip almost white as he bit down on it, eyes closed, and. head tilted back, a sinful expression on his face that would make his grandpa roll around in his grave. With nails digging down on Louis' shoulder as a sign for him to move, Tomlinson did not need another signal before his hips were thrusting roughly forward.

Groans and raspy moans filled the room that smelt of sex and lust. Harry had never felt this much pleasure in his life, or so he thought, until one of Louis' brute thrusts hit a spot in The Duke's body he never knew existed. 

His fingers tangled between the man's hair, pulling it slightly trying to keep his soul from leaving his body at each jolt of pleasure his body felt.

"F-fuck." A tingling feeling started building up, from the bottom of his gut, slowly making his way up his body, fogging up his entire mind. Louis groaned as Harry's nails dug into his back, even more, scratching the skin as his whole body shook in pleasure, release taking over him. Not long after, Louis was also groaning loudly, into Harry's neck as he achieved his own climax.

Both of their bodies collided against the wall on the other side of the room as they fumbled to catch their breaths. Harry's curls were glued to his forehead by sweat and Louis' chest and back were covered in dusty black marks of the charcoal that was left on The Duke's hands.

Their eyes locked, and both stood there, gazing into each other, trying to decipher what they were feeling about what had just happened. Harry still hadn't come to full realisation of the past events, simply focusing on regaining the strength in his legs and making his appearance look as tidy as possible, rushingly putting on his clothes.

The Duke's body ached with leftover lust. He had never even thought the human body could make him feel such things. Was this what it was supposed to feel like? Harry's hand shot to the lock on the door, looking into Louis' eyes once more. That is when all caught up to him.

He just had sex with Louis Tomlinson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter wasn't too confusing. Harry's emotions were all over the place. 
> 
> They got involved very early on in the story, but it's important so that the rest of the narrative falls into place.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> Thank you for the kudos, I appreciate it SOOOO much! 
> 
> <3


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